Friday, February 25, 2011

Only Hope

"There's a song that's inside of my soul
It's the one that I've tried to write over and over again
I'm awake in the infinite cold
But you sing me over and over and over again

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands
And pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I know now You're my only hope

Sing to me the song of the stars
of Your galaxy dancing and laughing
and laughing again
When it feels like my dreams are so far
Sing to me of the plans that You have for me over again

So I lay my head back down
And I life my hands and pray
to be only Yours
I know now You're my only hope

I give you my destiny
I'm giving You all of me
I want Your symphony
Singing in all that I am
At the top of my lungs I'm giving it back

So I lay my head back down
And I lift my hands and pray
To be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I pray to be only Yours
I know now You're my only hope" - Lyrics written by Switchfoot

Why do I feel like if I fully give over to Him who is my only hope I will lose all my ability to be human with personality, with desires and opinions. Why do I act like, the One that gave me my humor, my dispositions to be good and loving is going to take all of those things away from me and make me into His holy robot if I become Only His? Why do I hold back from him what is His, knowing I will be the girl I was made to be if I do and at the same time toil in my own two hands, inside my own head to become what He can make me?

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Don't Let me go

The biggest cause of anxiety for me, is that people will let me go, and in turn I will be forgotten. If you want more love, tell me so, if I have offended you tell me so. I can make it better and remedy the situation. Don't let me go  and dismiss me out of your life without letting me fight for you, don't let me go without fighting for me. Me thinks Hans is the only exception in the end, this is why God tells you to leave and cleave to your husband. He will have to forever, bound by law of Heaven and law of State of Illinois, cleave to me, but not only is he just sticking around, but he is constantly knowing me and figuring me out, knowing my intent. When everything was boiled down and he looked into the pot where there was once a soupy mess, he found me and was not disappointed, so he keeps boiling, he keeps pursuing. I know for once that he will be forever chasing after me, like Jesus does. 

A friend that I rekindled a friendship with recently is getting married. We were like sisters once and talked under covers about everything, whispering, giggling, and holding our stomachs from too much fun. We talked about the future wedding she will have and how I will stand in her wedding no doubt, but the future is here and she had chosen girls she had only known less than 3 years. I'm sure she meant it at the time, all the "I love yous," the nicknames, the late night calls. It's not so different from a romantic relationship when the boy promises a life together, kids, house and "I love yous." I'm sure he meant it at the time. Will we ever mean it now and follow through in the future? or will we throw it out there and hope for the best, hope for the cosmic commander to follow through on our small request for friendship? Are we completely without control of what will happen to you and me? I'm not so sad about not standing in the wedding as so much as how friendships I treasured have all seem to dissolve. Maybe it's me, maybe I'm demanding too much...not all souls are to be had by me because I am not Jesus and they were never mine to consume. Maybe it's my pattern of moving on, programmed to dispose of people at every season, at every turn because they won't remember you anyway. 

I am long suffering when it comes to physical pain or even circumstances, but when it comes to broken relationships with people I love, I cannot cope; making me want to crawl into the fluffy cavern between my sheets and my blanket and never come out. I want to crawl into the safety of my own solitude and keep people from knowing my flaws, knowing me, knowing them, protect them from myself and the eventual hurt I will cause them, the hurt they will cause me...then...I read Acts, and in Chapter 21, Paul is about to leave yet another city, another group of people, another phase of his life to move on to the next, and he says to them, "Why are you crying and breaking my heart." This tells me that he wasn't at all removed and disconnected with the people he knew he would leave someday. He lived with them, he loved them, he let them in and they let him in. This wasn't an exceptional city that he chose to lavish this kind of love, but I imagine him being this invested in every city, giving himself away and being replenished by the Love of God every time. I will go out again from my fluffy cavern and pursue you even if you let me go someday. 

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Forget me pills

What was the point of you?
If I couldn't have you forever, what was the point?
I remember you always, you live in the back of my mind
You hang like a ghost in the air inside my head
You kick your feet up in a chair parked inside the cavity of my heart
At least you could have taken your shoes off, you left foot prints on my soul on your way in
you left deeper ones on your way out. 

I wish I never met you or stuck around to know you
I think I rather be stupid and happy, happy enough 
I don't know if I can cope with the loss of you 
ignorance is bliss, when all you gain is pain

You make me doubt me and you make me doubt them, 
the ones that will love me in the future, the ones that love me now. 
"They'll get over me someday," I say and I hold my arm to fend them off
"You stay there...only come up to there" I say and I'm the one that walks on
I need to take a "forget me" pill to erase them all, the ones that left, that ones I left. 
With you, a pill wont do....

You made me see the importance of life, did I tell you?
You are the one that I'll always love, did you know? 
You've changed me forever, you made me who I am
You've grounded me, refined me, I'm not who I was
Your love its not to forget, please don't forget me too

Was I pointless to you? 
Is it pointless...
the people that you loved once..
the people that once loved you?

Friday, February 18, 2011

Feelings to muster up

"They" say write what you know...or your writing will become something you would submit to your high school English teacher on the Catcher In The Rye, comparing and contrasting Holden and some obscure character in the book or by expository means, relaying a dead pan opinion of what you've learned about the meaning of life by reading about Holden. I've been listening to a Adele's "Someone Like you" over and over partially because my girlfriend sends me a variation of the song every day. Adele singing "Someone Like you" live in her home, Adele singing "Someone Like you" at the NPR Tiny Desk Concert, Adele singing "Someone Like you" in her music video...I digress. I actually paid attention to the lyrics today and I don't know why I didn't notice them before, but this song completely slays me.  Everyone knows exactly that feeling of "it's not over for me, but you've already moved on to another and you look too happy for me to stand." "Please don't forget me. I love you."

Adele writes her own songs and a small part of me  (large enough to admit to myself and small enough that you don't have to worry I'm going to leave my husband) wants to know that torrential love relationship so I can write painfully-gut-wrenching words again. There are certain things we must forgo in written word purely because we don't know them any more, not personally.  I just can't muster up the feeling. You never quite remember pain as clearly and I guess that's why women have multiple babies or who would have more than one child? Or, who would venture into another relationship after a horrid break up that takes you years to recover? I might have tried last week to recollect what it felt like to be left in the dust of a sobbing trail of a broken relationship, but I really had to give it the old college try and the end product doesn't seem believable. It's not like I don't know what I was writing about, I felt it, I lived it, I know it, just not as clearly. The other day, HK sent me an article on Six Word Love stories and one of the six word stories that made me chuckle was, "Warning Love: I blog my break ups."  I told her that I would so do that! ...well...I don't know... maybe?...Yes! you never know, if I was moved enough, sad enough, mad enough! She told me she would illustrate my blog entries. :)

I suppose any writer that can write to slay hearts are true matter what they know or remember.

"I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited, 
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it, 
I had hoped you'd see my face, 
And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over, 

Never mind, I'll find someone like you, 
I wish nothing but the best for you, too, 
Don't forget me, I beg, 
I remember you said, 
"Sometimes it lasts in love, 
But sometimes it hurts instead," 
Sometimes it lasts in love, 
But sometimes it hurts instead, yeah" -Adele "Someone Like you"

Monday, February 14, 2011

Je t'aime

                                                 that is all....

Sunday, February 13, 2011

To be a fool

Marilyn Monroe once said "a wise girl kisses but doesn’t love, listens but doesn’t believe, and leaves before she is left." I understand a girl likes of Marilyn would say following these three principals would make her wise. She is in the business of being the sex symbol for all men and have the upper hand in every interaction so she isn't wounded by every man who claims he "loves" her and be fooled into thinking she was loved in return for more than what she offered in her bombshell looks.  It would behoove her to detach in every way possible whilst engaging in what is intimate and considered life's goodness so that she can never be made a fool by Cupid's cursed arrow. She will have to remain the cool, detached woman who will make you believe that you are the only one for her (when you are not) and she is in fact completely attached to you (when she is not), for Cupid is just as cruel.

I don't know much about Marilyn, but I imagined, she died lonely and any chance she had to be loved for more than superficial reasons was squashed by shutting everyone out in this way...

I've been writing a lot the "game" of love and maintaining that poker face all the while you're falling completely head-over-heels for someone because it seems so many girls have been privy to Marylin's way of dealing with the risk of heartbreak and it's Valentine's day. Tis the season to fall in love, to find love, take the next step, or just remind lovers, brothers, sisters and friends that we are in fact falling in love with them even as we speak. Valentine's day, I have to admit is one my favorite holidays, though with accusatory finger many will say that it is a holiday concocted in a board room of a large greeting card enterprise, and only produce women with over-inflated hopes and men with their insincere apologies, it is by far the holiday I forward to. It is not the day I look forward to the most because I will inevitably find myself with a boutique of long stem red roses (or if you knew me better, tulips) and a nice dinner at the new restaurant we've been meaning to try the last few months. More than the romance of Valentine's day, I find myself looking forward to the excuse for a little note and a Hersey kiss to give to my friends, to say I love them and receiving home made tokens of love from little girls who remembered me while making their little Valentine handouts.

Like my post about crying, I have similar sentiments about how people express love these days. We have been trained to always have the upper hand and not to be made a fool. We mustn't wear our hearts on our sleeve and all bouts of love need to be practical and rational. You must love in the confides of strict, controlled ways so that no one will take advantage of you. If you love too much, or if you express it too much, you are reduced to becoming the over zealous cartoon character Elmyra from Tiny Toons, who will snuff out your last breath with her kisses and choke out the living soul out of you with her kung-fu-grip embraces. In every episode, all who is in her psychotic love path are scampering to find asylum and escape her neurosis, clawing their way out of her prison of love.  If to be a wise girl, I must act as thought I don't care to protect myself from others and pretend I never loved in fear that someone might accuse my expressions of love to be insufferable, let me be a fool. If by any means, I will have to be one to make someone feel as though I did not love them or be a completely detached island in order for me to self-preserve, let me be a fool.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Go ahead and cry

Many of us can relate to what I'm about to say, sometimes you just gotta let it out. Yes, even you muscle flexing macho man, you who will only eat and drink from a can, you want to cry some days without knowing why. It's OK if you will not admit to anyone but your psychoanalyst who you pay to put a label on what you feel on the inside. Maybe your session goes something like this: Shrink holding up a chart with cartoon faces making various faces with labels like sad, confused, angry, ashamed, perverted, and outraged underneath them. "Is it this emotion you feel? this one? about this one? are sad and you want to cry. Next session we will try use our words to describe what's making you feel 'sad.'"

More and more, as men and women share the same kinds of roles and even working arenas, women are expected act professional (in another words, like men) in and out of the office walls. A few years ago, when Hilary Clinton was a candidate for office, she began crying as she expressed the frustrations of how backwards this nation is becoming and divulged her personal investment in assuming this role to champion causes that will benefit our families and future kids of our nation. She displayed a vulnerable side that men are also capable of, but as a woman she had the higher proclivity to show. This one moment of "weakness" her critics called it became a chink in her armor and she was reduced to becoming a basket case, a woman too fragile to run a nation such as ours let alone become a world leader.

When did this happen when crying is labeled as manipulative, weak, unstable, despicable! She didn't break her nail positioning her podium in the middle of her speech and whined about it, she showed strong emotion about the state of our nation! I myself have refrained from crying in front of women, church women, church MOMS because I thought they would think I was crazy or too emotional. Why is having a high emotional quotient not the same as having a high intelligence quotient? Because we were trained that strength comes from having the upper hand, and when do that by making someone else cry (Unless you're genuinely that manipulative girl who's trying to get her way by crying, then you have the upper hand).

Then how are we to live? Like robots without ever showing emotion on our sleeves because it's a sign of weakness? Looking at those crying suckers and wondering "Why is that human leaking?" There's a strength in a person who can come right out and cry when there is a moment in life like a birth of a child, death of a parent, sickness of a friend, loss of a lover. There is something very broken about a person that will point and say that we who cry to show that at this moment, my physical body cannot withstand this emotion, so all I can do is cry, is weak, manipulative or mentally unstable. Sure, there are times when crying is inappropriate, no. unacceptable. If my boyfriend dumps me, ok, but if I cry over someone I had a pleasant conversation with for 25 minutes on the train and they get up to leave because it's their stop, that is not ok. If I find out my father has cancer that's completely rational to cry, but if the hospital doesn't proudly brew Starbucks in the morning and you cry about it, there's something seriously broken in you. 

There's a health in someone who will appropriately show emotion and sure it's not always the most attractive thing to be spilling out of your eyes and running your well manicured lashes down your cheeks, but your soul will thank you for purging toxins from your innards, mentally and physically. So, ago ahead, cry like the baby that you are. 

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Tied hands and feet

I want to say that you were the one
the one I use to dream to and play love songs to
the one I use to plan my wedding and have kid with, all wrapped in white picket fence.
The one that put me on a pedestal even though I told you I was scared of heights
the one that made me feel on the outside everything I was inside
the one that made me feel on the inside what you made me from the outside.

I want you to know that everything you say was truth to me
everything that was detrimental, the sad stories, the heartbreaking words,
my flaws highlighted, irrational ones, made up ones, untrue ones...I still believe them now.
Everything that was dreamy, chocolate milk, shiny hair, pink lips,
all your words that mended my broken heart, broken dreams, broken moments
most of them broken by you.

The dates you promised, the futures you planned
all out of lips coated with honey, setting a slow and steady trap.
Did you know you were doing it?
Were you planning it all along?
Surely you didn't mean to open the floor trap below
Surely you are not that cruel.

I want you know that you tie my hands and feet to ancient history
I review and review the dates, the places, the faces, the smells,
I go down a road of regret, streets of chagrin.
Was I not pretty enough, fun enough, smart enough, cool enough,
was I not caring, daring, baring my soul?

Apology too late, even if you did
my heart wounded, my character blemished and love tainted in my eyes.
I don't trust myself, I don't trust him or her
There's an underlying grumbling deep within my soul. 
Too late to apologize, too late to remedy this old heart of mine. 
It's not for you to heal, it can't look you in the eye. 

Little girl to big girl, memory only fades but won't fly away
I lay the remainder of what's left of my wounded heart in a box
a box with lock and key.
Sometimes I open it, I sometimes I peek
to see if its safe, to see if it's beating yet still.
It's not just my heart I need to protect, it's my personality, my likes and my hates.
Can't let you see them, can't let them out....

I want you to know, you tie my hands and feet.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

Can't have it both

You're falling in...attachment
you're falling in... like 
you're falling in love 
the longer you wait, the higher the cost

You want to guard your heart 
you want to slow it down
you want to put a stop to it until you know for sure

There's risk, there's a gamble, there's an element of surprise
the surprise of pleasure, surprise of timing
the surprise of heartbreak, the surprise of letting go

You can't have it all baby, you can't have it both
to protect yourself and leave him without the imprint in your soul
to have love and to be perfectly untouched
To love and eat it too

You can't predict the future little girl
you can't predict the end
you have to trust him or you'll sure see the loss

Play in the game a little, enjoy the hand that's dealt
Hit em, raise em, and stay awhile
You gotta make a gamble
chip in or go all in, everyone must buy in, there's no exception for you.

You'll leave the table empty handed
you'll wish you never played and tears are gonna fall
other times...
You'll leave your seat with a winning smile and a wink
you've raised him, hit him and collected it all

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Take the high school out of the kid

All of us graduate high school soon or later, but we don't ever grow out of high school do we? We do, but not really....There's a clear difference between earning a diploma to state you have completed 4 years of secondary education to satisfaction and growing out of the antics we've picked up along the way to survive high school.  We carry on all the habits and all the social structure we had set up for ourselves and others even throughout adulthood.

Why is it that my guy friends always ask, "who's that on the cover of your Self Magazine," when it's people like Hilary Swank, a mildly attractive girl, but a little bit too horsey to have boys know exactly who she is when she's air bushed and manipulated, but when Brooklyn Decker graces the cover of my Self magazine all the boys know exactly who she is. I on the other hand had to ask H who Brooklyn Decker was because I had no idea! The reason why they know her is because all the boys know who the prettiest girls are, just like in high school. Even if she's a transfer from another district and it's only the 3rd day of school, the boys are socializing the girls to the new girl because she's gorgeous.  Of course all the girls are jealous and mildly annoyed that she's smart and nice to go with her goddess looks, but secretly we all look through the pages of our Self magazine to see just how does she get a body this fit? And follow her to do's and her do not's in hopes to be like her one day.

It's like when we go to a wedding and as we sit down, we notice who we were seated with and some times we do a little fist pump (just a tiny one) when you notice you're at the popular table...or ...when you're an "adult" you say "fun table." Even as good Christian men and women of God, we have our clicks and when fellowship time starts and as we munch on our donuts and coffee, we tend to congregate toward the people you are in groups with. Kind of like glee club or the football team or the key club, except now it's praise team, the hospitality team, or your small group. I'm not sure if these are at all bad or good or acceptable, but I can only say that unless we make conscious decisions to shed our high school skin, we would continue to live in our pimply, awkward, high school selves until we die. Someone once said to me, "young fools grow up to be old fools," but that's only true if we continue to think we can "mature" without making choices, good choices to change in every decision, every day. To act different, to do different, today, now.

Unlike most girls, I could not WAIT to turn 30.  I thought that being 30 would mean, I would be wise, graceful, smarter, more beautiful, more confident, taller...but none of that happened that day of my 30th birthday, not even the next day or the next month. I realized that none of these things would naturally happen until I actually put some elbow grease into the person I was becoming. Although somethings about that 16 year old high school girl I would like to keep, like her innocence, her vulnerability, her sweetness, and her free spirit, but I don't want to be most of the what I use to be.

Monday, February 7, 2011

Pup N' Kitty still going and going and going....

Boys will ask, " did you get Susie, did you pursue her?" Hans will say, "you have to love her, you can't just pursue a girl that you think you want. You really have to love her to the end." Girls will ask, "How did you know Hans was the one?" And I would say, "I didn't. I was young and he isn't my soul mate, but at the time I just knew and I just did." Something about young love that causes you to be blind and unwavering in  insolent youth. It's the point when you are old enough to make the plunge into the great unknown of marriage and the responsibility that comes with it and the naivety that allows you the luxury of invincibility to failure. And even if there were mistakes, cuts, scrapes and bruises traveling on the arduous road of two sinners doing life together, you become each other's source of injury and medicine.

Sometimes I think that I am the worse wife there was and I would be running with the likes of Gomer from the Bible who is a waywardly prostitute who Hosea was commanded to love no matter what, and though time and time again she sold herself to others, he bought her back again. Winning her back, loving her regardless because not only because he obeyed God, but I'd like to believe that he began loving her too. It's not to say I am exactly like Gomer in action, but in my heart I am, struggling with the ordinary, the mundane and having wanderlust, dreaming of new heights and exciting sights, it's hard to maintain the balance that is me. Allowing me to be carefree and dreaming whilst grounding me to a community, to people, having connections so that I won't float away in my dreamy ethereal state.

On the cusp of adoption coming into flesh and blood fruition, we are turning a page onto a new chapter for us and we are both hoping for Daddy and Mommy of the Year Award. We want to raise our child to be upright, righteous citizens of heaven and forget that, we just want to keep him or her alive and don't want to mess them up too much. Let's just start with steps. All those years of waiting together, maybe we weren't just waiting around, twirling our hair and twiddling our thumbs because we were perfectly ready and fit for parenthood, but our young marriage had to mature, and so did we.

Friday, February 4, 2011

The Best #14: At Last, Sunshine

What a difference a day makes of waking up to Sunshine. That's it... shiny rays from a firey ball of gas far far away, covered in smog, rainy clouds and the dark of winter finally revealed, makes me happy. Things like a good song in the morning, the latte made right and a funny conversation with a friend that's doing almost exactly the same thing ump-teen miles a way at her office desk is highlighted only because you've seen the sun. For a long time I thought I had to have something wrong in my life and when there wasn't it's the bad habit of ominous cloud that hangs around ready....ready to just loom. Then you forget it's okay to crack a smile because there's things to smile about, you'll miss this chance and the next time that looming cloud pours down rain, you'll be thinking to yourself, "I never get a break..." But there's always a break in the clouds. No matter how bad that thunder snow or snowmageddon, clouds will part even in the middle of winter.  That's the best.

Fever Pitch

Between the "high road" and the "door mat" there's a fine line, and it's difficult to tight rope across to the other side of tricky circumstances. Do I become the evolved person and do as Jay Z would, brush the dirt off your shoulder, or if Jay Z were to live in Jesus times, "shake the dust off the soles of your feet as a testimony against them."? Or do I get angry? It's been pointed out to me more than once from my mom, who is a quiet soul with purity at her core and kindness to a fault says, "sometimes, you just have to say something with a little sting," and others who have told me "don't apologize for being angry for the right reasons." Some have gone as far as to say that Anger is a gift from God, but it's how you use it and what you're being angry about. I'm not sure if this is actually true or some angry elf had a bad habit of throwing tantrums too many times a day and he needed Biblical backing.

Whatever the case, I have to admit I do throw the occasional tantrum over trivial things like a badly made latte, a Mercedes Benz parked in two spaces, traffic, or Ke$ha, but other times I am indignant about the injustices of the poor, the helpless, kicked puppies and abandoned elderly. I have to know that some times I will not have to apologize for being angry at someone wounding me, as long as I have not banished them out of my heart and pasted a bulls eye to pin all my resentment and coldness against them for the remainder of their lives. My anger should signal that there is something amiss, something not shalom about our world, our relationship, the way we do things around here. That this grumble and rumble in my stomach isn't from the less than 30% meat from Taco Bell, although that is an injustice to us all, but there's something that requires a remedy. More love, fairness, kindness, justice, better meat! That's right...I said better meat.

We need to escape the trap of being a doormat because good girls are not suppose to get angry. But not so! Battered women need to get angry, for their kids, for themselves. Teens need to get angry for that kid that gets bullied everyday, the elderly need to get angry for the insolence of young people, we need to get angry for something for a purpose greater than ourselves. Once, I was angry about a ministry I'm involved in and the changes it was going through, when someone told the "higher ups" that I was angry, he just said, "well, someone's gotta be the momma bear to protect her cub." I'm not one to mother people, but when push comes to shove, I will bite your head off for causing harm to my cubs. Then I'll try to sew it back on and try to love on you, there's no use losing relationships over brokenness right? or heads for that matter.

Sometimes, you just gotta get angry.

"There's a fire starting in my heart, 
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark, 

Finally, I can see you crystal clear, 
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare, 
See how I'll leave with every piece of you, 
Don't underestimate the things that I will do" - Adele (Rolling In The Deep)